


The Sick Days

by tricksterJANE



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Karkat and Slick, Stabdads, stab dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterJANE/pseuds/tricksterJANE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slick comes home from a long day of stabbing, to find a very sick Karkat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three o’clock in the fuckin’ mornin’

Spades Slick was a very busy man. After all, being in the mafia was a full time job. He usually worked long hours, so when he glanced at the clock and saw it was quarter to three, it didn’t surprise him. 

“Droog,” he growled out. “I’m headin’ home, the kids’ probably eatin’ everything in the fuckin’ house by now.”

Droog gave an amused snort, and waved absentmindedly. He was used to Slicks’ exaggeration about Karkats’ behavior, but eating everything in the house could be close to the truth. 

“Whatever Slick, just don’t kill anyone on the way home. I have enough shit on my plate right now.”

“Hey! Fuck you, I have restraint!”

At this point Droog had to roll his eyes, “Yeah, and Karkat isn’t loud. He’s just very excitable .”

At this point, Slick showed his world renowned “restraint,” by throwing several knives at Droog. Along with shouting several profanities about: Droog, Droog’s mother, and Droog’s fashion taste.

“Slick! Shut the hell up, and go home. Because if we get in a fight about our personal tastes, I will bring up Scotty dogs. And everyone knows we don’t want that.” 

This was what finally shut Slick up, he gave a very agitated, “Fine whatever, fuck you too Droog.” While leaving, but this was subdued for him. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking home was normally an uneventful task, so aside from tripping and falling into a stray puddle (causing an explosion of cursing and waterlogged coughing.) It didn’t take to long. When he reached his front steps, it took him a while to dig the keys out of his pocket. The reason behind this was he was halfway frozen from falling into a puddle at three AM in the middle of October, but after several death threats to no one in particular he got the door open.

Slick tried to be quiet entering the house, (despite the fact he was screaming profanities only seconds before.) Because waking up the kid, and having him complain and whine about being woken up, is not to high on his list of things to do tonight.

He managed to walk though the living room, into the kitchen before he hit a squeaky board. (A rarity for the old flooring of this house,) he walked as quietly as he could to the fridge, and grabbed a beer. “Thank God for twist tops,” he thought to himself. Because, as he mentioned before, he didn’t want to wake up the kid. 

Shuffling to the living room, he finally noticed that the TV was on and emitting a faint blue glow. It was muted as far as he could tell, he then glanced at the ratty, old, sofa and saw the lump of blankets and pillows that had to be Karkat. 

Slick debated for a moment whether or not to just let him sleep on the sofa for tonight, but in the end he decided to take him to his own bedroom. Mainly because he wanted to drink his beer and watch TV without waking up Karkat, also the sofa wasn’t comfortable enough to sleep on. (And he isn’t THAT heartless, no matter what anyone says.)

“Kid,” he rasped, shaking Karkats’ shoulder. “Kid, wake up.” Still nothing. “Karkat! Wake up, and get your ass off the sofa before I-” He broke off mid death threat, in shock from the look on Karkats face.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karkat had woken up after Slick had shaken him a few times, judging by the way Slick reacted, he looked as bad as he felt. 

“What?” Was all he managed to croak out of his sore throat. “What d-do you want?” Even these few sentences made his throat erupt in pain, which then caused a fit of coughing that made his throat feel raw. Suddenly Slicks cool hand was on his forehead, fingers delicately pressing down, and Slick wasn’t yelling for once, he actually looked concerned. 

“Kid, your fuckin’ burning up, how long have you been sick?” Slick sounded much more alert than he had been minutes ago, much more concerned. “Karkat! Answer me!” Slick yelling is what finally brought him back to the present, “Uh… a-a few days?” He said it more like a question, hoping Slick wouldn’t be mad.

“A few days?” Slicks’ voice was soft, and when Slicks’ voice was soft, it meant that danger was ahead. “A few days?” He repeated, “Karkat, would you please tell me why you didn’t think of, I don’t know, coming to me?” Oh no, he was mad.

“I-I uh, I don’t know?” Shit. The last part came out choked, and then his face felt wet. But he wasn’t crying, men don’t cry. It was… sweat! From the fever! That was it.

“Oh Karkat,” He sounded exasperated, “come ’er kid.” Karkat was lifted off the sofa into and awkward (yet somehow still loving,) embrace. Karkat froze, he was expecting to be yelled at, or at least disappointed silence. But hugging, hugging was new.

The wall Karkat had built up, crumbled. After two days of telling himself to man up, and not to disappoint Slick. The man brought it all crashing down around him, with a hug and caring attitude.

“Karkat your gonna be okay, understand me kid?” Karkat’s only response was to tighten his arms around Slicks neck and shake slightly. “Karkat look at me.” Slick says in a soft, but firm voice, that Karkat isn’t able to resist. Slick looks blurry, but serious. “Karkat, you are going to be fine, you need to trust me kid. You probably have the fuckin’ flu or some shit like that, you’re gonna feel like crap for a couple’a days, an’ then you’ll get over it okay?”

While Slick was sternly informing Karkat on the seriousness of his illness, Karkat had started crying harder. He was currently scrubbing his face with his sweater sleeves, trying in vain to rub the tears away.

“Christ kid, did you even here a word I said?” Slick gruffly wiped Karkat’s face with the corner of his own shirt. Karkat’s response was to start crying harder, and lunge forward hugging Slicks neck. “Okay kid, you win.” Slick sighed, he moved the blankets Karkat had been sleeping on, to the end of the sofa, and sat down with Karkat still clutching his neck. They sat like that long enough for Karkat’s tears to be reduced to sniffles.

“Are you alright now?” Slick asked suddenly, a faint sound of amusement in his tone. Karkat (who was absolutely mortified,) simply nodded, yawning. Slick sighed, “Alright kid, time for bed.” Slick stood, still holding Karkat he started walking to the stairs leading to the bedrooms. “It’s about three o’clock in the fuckin’ mornin’ after all. Time for all good little grubs to be in bed.” He said in an amused voice.

“F-fuck you,” was Karkat’s feeble reply. “Language.” Slick reported sternly, “You’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on you kid.” At this point the were in Karkats room, Slick pried Karkat off his neck and put him in the bed. “Night Karkat.” He said softly, brushing the hair away from Karkats sweaty forehead, and fixing the covers on the bed. He finally stood, giving one last, half serious threat about not getting up, and left. 

Karkat marveled at what happened, half asleep and slightly delirious from the fever. He decided that Slick was, in fact, getting softer with age. Chuckling at this thought and one of his fever dreams he fell into a deeper sleep, smiling slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slick is a good stabdaddy


	2. “Why is that kid wearing a sweater, when he has a fever?”

After finally getting Karkat off the flea ridden sofa, and into bed; was when the panic finally set in for Slick. Stumbling at an awkwardly quick walk down the stairs, he shuffled into the kitchen grabbing the wall phone. He then began franticly dialing Droogs number, swearing as he hit the wrong buttons.

“Fuckin’ useless piece of mother fuckin’ SHIT!” He bellowed, slamming down on the receiver, and starting over again. After about two more tries, Slick managed to call Droogs cell phone.

“Yeah?” Droog spoke slowly, “This is Droog.” 

“Droog, we got a fuckin’ problem here.” Slick growled into the phone, twisting the cord nervously. 

“What, did Karkat actually eat all the food in the house? I never knew the kid had it in him.” He said in an amused voice, the rustling of papers in the background.

“No! He’s fuckin’ sick off his ass! Do you think someone poisoned him? He’s all sweaty an’ shit, and when I came home he started cryin. An’ he’s been like this for three fuckin’ days, or some shit. I bet someone fuckin’ poisoned him!” Slick was rambling into the phone, not letting Droog get a word in edgewise. “I bet that kid he hangs out with all the time did it! Whatsername, Snowman’s kid!”

“Slick!” Droog barked into the phone, only able to speak when Slick was taking a breath. “Calm down, what’s wrong with Karkat?

“He’s fuckin’ sick!” Slick screeched into the phone, pronouncing his words like it was the most obvious (and horrible) thing in the world. “An’ he’s probably DYING!” He announced dramatically, flinging his left arm backwards and slamming it into the wall.

“…Are you okay?” Droog said slowly, as if talking to a small child. “Because it sounds to me, that you’re over reacting. I mean kid’s get sick all the time, and no special case.”

“NO! I am not ’overreacting’ or whatever the fuck! He-he’s sick as fuck!” Slick was enraged at this point, deciding that Droog was being a complete Neanderthal about this.

“Okay, okay. I get that he’s sick, do you have any medicine in the house?” 

“Uhhh…yes?” 

“Oh my god, you’re in the fuckin’ mafia, and you don’t have any medical supplies? You fuckin’ dolt.” 

“Hey fuck you!” Was Slicks only reply, instead of telling Droog any different. Thus further confirming Droogs first suspicions of him being inadequate in the band-aid department. 

“Alright,” Droog groaned. “I’ll go pick up some meds, and disinfectant, and shit. You, will wait for me, and try not to kill anyone.” At these words, Droog hung up. Leaving Slick speechless, from being treated (in his own mind) like a child.

“Yeah? Well fuck you Droog!” He screeched into the now silent phone, slamming the phone onto it’s receiver. Huffing he walked back into the living room, switching of the long forgotten TV and picking up his now lukewarm beer. “Fuckin’ Droog, I’m not a fuckin’ two year old, don’t need his fuckin’ help.” Slick muttered to himself, shuffling back into the kitchen he put the warm beer in the fridge. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally deciding that Droog wasn’t coming over for a while, he started up the stairs to check on Karkat. Walking slowly up the stairs he mulled over his choices, hoping not wake up Karkat he pushed open the door. 

Karkat was still asleep, but his breath was raspy and labored. Slick noted that he had thrown off the blankets, and his sweater was halfway off. “Damn. I forgot to take that off.” He thought to himself. 

Leaving the room, he heard a soft knock on the door. “Shit he’s here already?” He thought to himself out loud. Walking down the stairs, he heard knocking again,. “Hold on, god.” 

Opening the door he found himself face to face, with a slightly amused Droog holding a plastic bag. “You got some meds and shit?” Slick asked while stepping aside, letting Droog in.

“Yes god, okay Slick where is he?” Droog asked as soon as he stepped inside, getting straight to the point.

“He’s uh, upstairs in his room. Try not to wake him, kids sick as fuck.” He replied, motioning up the stairs.

“Slick, I think you’ve forgotten, I am a father too.” Droog sniffed, sweeping past him up the stairs. “And,” He continued. “I have a daughter, which is much harder.” 

Slick decided to let this jab slide, he wanted Droog to make sure Karkat was alright first. Rivalry could wait, until the kid didn’t look like he was close to death. Slick also decided that he had walk up and down theses damn stairs, one to many times tonight. Reaching Karkat’s room Droog pushed the door open, stepping in quietly.

“Slick,” He hissed. “Why is that kid wearing a sweater, when he has a fever?” Droog was glaring at him, when he didn’t receive an answer he sighed harshly. “Alright, I’m gonna take his sweater off so he doesn’t have a fuckin’ heat stroke. You, hold the stuff.” He whispered loudly to Slick, thrusting the bag toward him. Slick gave a shallow cough when the bag caught his stomach, glaring at him. 

Droog knelt down next to Karkat’s bed, pushing back the covers and helping Karkat sit up.  
“Alright kid, you need to get this off.” He spoke softly to Karkat, pull his arms out of the sweater sleeves. Pulling it off completely he sat it on the floor, and eased Karkat back into the bed. 

“Okay he’s sick, but not like pneumonia or anything like that I don’t think.” Droog whispered to Slick, reaching in the bag he pulled out a bottle of cough syrup, and set it on the bedside table. “Has he been throwing up?” 

Slick shook his head, setting the bag next to the cough syrup. “He’s just sweaty an’ feverish.” He replied 

“Alright, so I’m gonna give him some meds when he wakes up okay?” Droog stood up, walking over to Slick. “Do you need me to stay the night or do you think you can handle this?” A sarcastic undertone was in Droogs voice, and Slick noted it.

“I can fuckin’ take care of it till morning.” He rasped, walking to the door. “You can fuckin’ leave now.” 

“Wow Slick, you’re as grateful as ever.” Droog chuckled walking down the stairs, Slick following close behind. “But seriously, take care of him okay? It’s not good for him to be sick for this long.”

Droog stood at the doorway, waiting for Slicks response. Slick pause for a minute, before turning to Droog and clicking his sharp teeth.

“Course I’m gonna take care of him, he’s my damn kid isn’t he?” He finally growled out.

Droog stared for a moment, and then started to chuckle. “Yeah Slick, he sure is. He sure is.” With these words, Droog left, leaving Slick to worry alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me way too long to put up.


	3. "A few winks 'll do ya good."

Karkat’s eyes felt glued shut when he tried opening them, his whole face ached. 

“D-Dad? Daddy?” He whined out, Karkat hadn’t used that childish name for Slick in years. But he was sick, confused, and in slight pain, causing him to resort back to his younger ways of speaking. “Daddy?” He called out again, scared that the man had left him. Finally forcing his eyes open he looked around the darkened room, seeing no signs of Slick. 

He coughed sending tremors through his body, and suddenly he was choking, tears running down his face. Gasping for air he struggled to sit up, and right when he was sure he was going to die, gentle hands were helping him sit up. Rubbing his back and lifting a glass of water to his lips.

“Christ kid, can’t go to minutes without putting yourself in danger.” Slick murmured, patting Karkats back. “You okay now?” He asked quietly, helping him lay back down.

“D-Daddy.” Karkat coughed again, “Daddy I hurt.” He whined, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. 

“Aw kid.” Slick sighed, “I’m sorry.” Kneeling down next to the bed and petting his hair, while kissing the boys sweaty forehead.

Karkat calmed down as Slick rubbed his back, hiccupping softly. “Daddy, I’m tired.” He whimpered, Slick could tell he felt horrible by his overuse of the word ’daddy.’ 

“Yeah I know you are kid, you should go to sleep now. Catching a few winks ‘ll do ya good.”

Karkat sighed, sinking into the bed. Falling asleep almost instantly, snuffling quietly. Slick left the room quietly, sighed when he shut the door. He thought of calling Droog, but he didn’t want the other man to think he was incapable of taking care of his own damn kid. 

Raking his fingers through his hair, he walked back down stairs, musing quietly to himself. Hoping that the signs Karkat were showing, wouldn’t lead to an untimely death. He chuckled to himself, deciding that he was getting paranoid in his older age. 

Slick knew he should sleep, he’d been awake for two days at the least and was now taking care of a sick little troll. But he couldn’t insomnia was a bitch, and his fatherly worries kept him awake. At least for the fifteen minutes before he crashed on the sofa, snoring like a congested walrus.

He was awoken in the morning by a weight in the middle of his chest, imminently in panic mode he froze. His left hand inching toward the coffee table, where his knife was laying. Gritting his shark like teeth he squinted his one good eye, trying to see over the bunched up blanket on his chest.

Realization hit Slick right between the eyes, he mentally smacked himself for thinking that a burglar would cuddle up on his chest like a kitty-cat. Karkat gave a sigh, nuzzling slicks lower abdomen.

While Slick was mentally beating himself up, the rise and fall of his chest became more ecstatic. Causing Karkat to slip sideways, waking him up. Slick hadn’t noticed, he was currently trying to fall back asleep.  
“Da-a-a-d, your squishin’ me!” Karkat yowled, clawing at Slicks side. Slick swatted at Karkats digging claws, forgetting that Karkat had been sick earlier. 

“Damn it kid! Stop diggin’ me or I’ll stab you in the ass!” He barked at him, twisting his body to look down at the angrily pouting Karkat. They stared angrily at each other for a moment until Slick say that Karkat was better

“Fuck! Karkat!” He bellowed, grabbing Karkat and crushing him against his chest. “You’re better!” 

“D-da-a-ad!” Karkat whined, pretending that he didn’t like the affection. “Hugging to tight!”

“Sorry kid.” He chuckled, pulling him away. “Just glad your not dyin’ an’ shit.”

He sat up, bringing Karkat with him. Yawning he ruffled Karkats hair, getting little protests from the whining boy. He stood up and stretched, walking to the kitchen to make breakfast. He glanced back to the sofa, seeing that Karkat had cuddled back up in the blanket he sighed softly, still worried about him being sick. 

“You want some cereal or somthin’ kid?” He look over his shoulder, seeing that Karkat was already asleep. He sighed, smiling slightly. “More for me I guess..” He drawled softly, rummaging around in the fridge, he pulled out some cold pizza.

He sat at the table, eating quietly. Thinking about Karkat, and The Midnight Crew, and Snowman. Wondering how he ever ended up with a Kid like Karkat, deciding he wouldn’t give up that kid for all the whiskey in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me WAYYYYY to long to put out, also its really short and I'm sorry. But I hope this will tide you over until I get over my writers block.


	4. "Is that anyway for a respectable young man  to talk?”

When Karkat woke up he was laying half off the sofa, his pajama pants were twisted around his leg. He grumbled to himself for a few minutes, setting up and fixing his pants. Glancing around for Slick he finally saw that he had fallen asleep setting at the table, with a half eaten slice of pizza.

“Fuck dad,” he muttered to himself as he stood up shakily, slowly walking over to the sofa. “Could you have picked a more uncomfortable spot to sleep?” 

As he reached over to pull Slick up he heard him snore quietly, and mutter to himself.

“What?” Karkat leaned in closer, putting his ear up by Slicks mouth.

“I said,” Slick grumbled sleepily. “Watch your fuckin’ language.” He turned his head, cracking open his good eye and staring blearily at Karkat. “An’ what are you doin’ walkin’ around? You should be sleepin’ kid, not tryin’ to take care of your old man.”

Karkat snorted, and pulled Slick up the rest of the way, draping an arm around his shoulders, tugging him gently upward. “Dad, be quiet. You just spent all weekend taking care of my germ infested carcass, while I blubbered and leaked fluids out of most, if not all, of the holes in my body.”

Slick winced and scrubbed a hand across his face. “Damn it kid, when did you start gettin’ all fancy with your vocabulary? I remember when the only words you could say were: ‘No’ an ‘I want Crabby’.”

Karkat scowled at him, pulling him along to the sofa and dropping him heavily on it. “I dunno dad maybe I decided I wanted to actually speak with a vocabulary bigger than your fifteen word one? Because even with that, eleven of those fifteen are fucking swear words?”

“Hey!” Slick barked weakly, reaching up and capturing Karkats hand with his own, and dragging him down next to him. “Language, you little ankle-bitter. Is that anyway for a respectable young man to talk?” 

Karkat simply pouted and leaned on Slicks shoulder, huffing angrily. “Shut up.” He snapped, bumping Slicks shoulder with his own.

Slick chuckled, wrapping his arm, and the rest of the blanket around Karkat shoulder. “You know, I shouldn’t even be this close to you, you’re a walking germ factory.” 

“Shut up,” Karkat whined again, rubbing his face against Slick shoulder, pouting. “You’re the worst father figure ever!”

“Nah,” Slick drawled out, absentmindedly changing the TV channels. “I’m the best one ever.”

“Yeah right, your in the fucking mafia! Totally a good trait in parenting, gold star dad.” 

“Hush up, an’ watch TV.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Droog found them like this a few hours later, as he entered the house to check on them. Both of them half asleep and squabbling with each other, he chuckled quietly to himself and slipped out the door. Knowing that they could take care of each other like no one else ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this is the end! So sad I know, but I will surly be making more stabdads! (It's my unhealthy addiction,) Also thank you for the nice reviews! They helped me find the motivation to finish this last chapter! (Really fucking late, but hey I finished it!!)


End file.
